


And Your Dreaming Meet

by fourth_rose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon - Book, Infidelity, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 03:56:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5770342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourth_rose/pseuds/fourth_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some things that are worth waiting for, no matter how long it takes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Your Dreaming Meet

**Author's Note:**

> This story, written shortly after the publication of book 7, remains the only epilogue-compliant HP fic I've ever written - mostly to prove to myself that I could actually do it ;-)
> 
> It's based on book-canon only, though, and ignores any kind of extra information that JKR gave out in interviews, on her website etc.

_August 2nd, 2007_  
  
  
Draco's pale skin stood out in stark contrast to the dark green sheets when he stretched languidly like a big, lazy cat; a few damp strands of his hair had fallen into his face and clung to his sweaty forehead. He winced slightly as he turned over on his side, facing Harry.  
  
"You must either be in a very good or in a very bad mood; that was quite – intense. I don't even want to think about the fact that I have to get on a broom for practice tomorrow morning."  
  
Harry, still panting, gave him the dirtiest smirk he could muster. "You're welcome to a rematch."  
  
Draco flopped back onto the pillow with a theatrical groan. "Hey, give me a moment. I'm not eighteen any more!"  
  
"You never slept with me when you were eighteen," Harry pointed out reasonably.  
  
Draco sighed. "True, but I'm not nineteen any more, either – and neither are you. Happy birthday, by the way."  
  
Harry did his best not to show that he was touched; he hadn't been sure whether Draco would remember. "Thanks, but actually, my birthday was two days ago."  
  
Draco's face darkened slightly. "I know that, you git, but since you could hardly spend Harry Potter Day with me of all people –"  
  
"I'm sorry," Harry murmured, regretting that he'd brought it up, "but you know that I couldn't possibly –"  
  
"Leave the happy family behind on the big day? No, of course not." Draco reached out and lightly swatted Harry on the shoulder. "Stop giving me that look, it's completely unnecessary. I'm not your teenaged mistress; I don't need you to tell me you'd rather hold my hand under the Christmas tree than that of your wife!"  
  
"Even if I would?" Harry wasn't sure himself why he refused to let the topic go, but something in Draco's flippant tone bugged him.  
  
Draco raised an eyebrow. "That's quite an interesting question, coming from the man who walked out on me _again_ less than half a year ago with the heartfelt assurance that he never wanted to see my face again!"  
  
Harry looked away. "There are only so many times I can tell you I'm sorry about that."  
  
Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "It was probably for the best, since thanks to your little tantrum, your wife now gets the daughter she always wanted. You should name her after me when she's born, don't you think?"  
  
Harry frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
Draco pulled the blanket up to his bare chest as if he were suddenly cold. "Forgive me if I can't help noticing that every time we break up, your wife ends up pregnant. This has been the third time it happened, so I'm definitely beginning to see a pattern."  
  
"Then how come _you_ only have one child?" The light tone sounded false even to Harry himself, but he really didn't want to go into these issues, not when they'd been basking in warm, content afterglow just moments before.  
  
Draco gave him a calculating look. "Since you obviously need to be spitting mad in order to go and shag your wife, perhaps I'm not quite as short-tempered as you. Or it's simply the fact that I'm gay and you're not."  
  
Harry sighed again. Draco had a point; while Harry had come to realise years ago that he was generally more interested in men, a passing attraction to women had lingered. "You really like rubbing it in, don't you? You've often said that you don't care whether I sleep with Ginny or not, why should it bother you that she's pregnant again?"  
  
"You're a fine one to talk – you're the one who got married in a fit of pique when I said I wanted to have an heir!"  
  
Harry felt his face heat up; it had been a time in his life he didn't like being reminded of. To this day, he couldn't make up his mind whether he'd been more of an arsehole towards Draco or towards Ginny back then. "It wasn't the marriage that happened in a fit of pique, just the reason for it, remember?"  
  
Draco's face twisted into a sneer that reminded Harry uncomfortably of their days at school. "And how perfectly cliché that was – the hero having to sacrifice himself to protect the honour of the blushing maiden he got knocked up."  
  
"Draco, stop it. Please." Harry leaned in and brushed his lips against Draco's, reassured by the fact that Draco didn't pull away. "I've really been looking forward to seeing you tonight. I don't want to ruin it now." Draco held perfectly still for a moment before he opened his mouth, allowing Harry to deepen the kiss. It was slow and gentle, quite different from the way they usually kissed during the stolen moments they got to spend together, and Harry felt his heart clench from the bittersweet feeling of longing and regret. _This could have been the future if I hadn't..._  
  
He stopped the thought just in time; he'd learned long ago that dwelling on past mistakes accomplished nothing. When their lips finally parted, he pulled back a little too quickly and looked around the room, desperately searching for a safe topic of conversation.  
  
"Where are we?" As usual, Draco had sent him a Portkey without any explanation where it would take him; now that Harry finally paid attention to his surroundings, he realised they didn't look like one of the hotel rooms where they usually met. Instead, they were in a small, comfortable bedroom that was dominated by the huge four-poster bed with dark green velvet hangings and silk sheets of the same colour.  
  
"My bedroom," Draco replied with a dismissive gesture that looked just a bit too casual to Harry. "Pansy and the little one are with her parents for the night."  
  
Harry stared at him, completely at a loss for words. This was new; he had never set foot into Draco's home during the turbulent seven years of their relationship, or whatever it really was they had going. He wasn't sure what Draco was trying to tell him by bringing him here today, but knowing Draco, there _was_ a reason behind it.  
  
The first thing that came to his mind when he finally found his voice again was, "Do you mean to say that Pansy knows?"  
  
"That there is someone? Of course she knows, the woman isn't stupid, after all. She doesn't know it's you, though." Harry's relief must have shown on his face, because Draco gave him a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Never fear, Potter, your reputation is safe."  
  
Harry didn't take the bait. "That's not what I'm worried about, and you know it, you git." He scanned the room once more, looking in vain for something that spoke of a female touch. He was oddly pleased by that.  
  
"You have separate bedrooms?"  
  
"You mean you don't?" Draco wrinkled his nose. "How perfectly plebeian."  
  
"Snob," Harry murmured, although he felt another blush creep up his cheeks. "Actually, we do have separate rooms. Ginny was already pregnant when I moved in, and she didn't feel very well most of the time –"  
  
Draco held up a hand to cut him off. "Please spare me. I'm sure she suffered gladly for finally having the prize she'd been after since age ten in her greedy little hands. Being the Chosen One's chosen one must have been worth a little vomiting, don't you think?"  
  
"Draco, don't." To his own surprise, Harry didn't feel angry, merely a bit tired. "I know you detest Ginny, but none of this is her fault. I'm the one who has been lying to her during every single day of our marriage, when she did nothing to deserve that."  
  
Draco's face twisted into another sneer. "Apart from – "   
  
Harry interrupted him before he could finish the sentence. "I said _don't_." His tone was still calm, but there was a clear warning to it. "I'm not badmouthing Pansy either, am I?"  
  
Draco raised an eyebrow. "What reason would you have to badmouth Pansy?"  
  
"What reason?" Harry could hardly believe he'd heard him correctly. "She wanted to hand me over to Voldemort!"  
  
"Potter." Draco sounded like a patient teacher, which never failed to make Harry's hackles rise. "Sacrificing you for the sake of her fellow students was the logical – scratch that, the _only_ choice for a Slytherin. How often do I have to tell you? Being a Slytherin means that you first and foremost look out for your own."  
  
Although Harry had heard it many times before, that statement never failed to make him feel as if Draco had slapped him. He hated himself for sounding so bitter when he answered, but he couldn't help it. "And where, if I may ask, do I figure in this?" The addition _for you_ remained unspoken; Harry had already lowered his defences more than he'd ever planned to.  
  
Draco sighed and, to Harry's surprise, reached out to cup the back of Harry's head with his hand. "Right among them, you stupid git."  
  
A slow smile spread over his face when he saw Harry's stunned expression. "And just so you know, I'm going to kick the crap out of you during our next match for making me spout such an appalling amount of sappiness."  
  
That brought Harry back to his senses, although it didn't diminish the curious feeling of warmth in his chest. "Oh, really? We'll see about that, _Malfoy_. You haven't beaten me since –"  
  
"- the day that led to the conception of Potter junior number two?" Draco finished with infuriating smugness. "By rights, the boy should have 'Dad's a sore loser' for his middle name, it would have been slightly less ridiculous, too!"  
  
"Says the man who named his heir _Scorpius_ ", Harry shot back, but he silently had to admit that the remark had hit home. Draco beating him to the Snitch in the final game of the season had cost Puddlemere United the League Cup that year and had ended both Harry's winning streak of five years and his reputation of being unbeatable. His rational mind had known back then that he was stupidly overreacting, but his wounded pride had been smarting for weeks, particularly since Draco had milked the victory for all it had been worth.  
  
"Besides, how is 'Severus' ridiculous? I thought you liked Snape."  
  
Draco gave him a look that would, indeed, have made Severus Snape proud. "I did, that's why I'm sure he'd be rolling in his grave if he knew."  
  
Harry bit his lip. He'd never mustered up the courage to tell Draco that he had been thinking of _him_ when he had given his son the name of Draco's late mentor – it was the closest he could ever come to acknowledging Draco's role in his life, since Harry's own feelings towards Snape hardly justified naming his son after the man. Unfortunately, Draco obviously hadn't seen the connection.  
  
"Let's not talk about Snape, okay? I don't want to fight tonight."  
  
"What does it matter?" Draco shot back, his expression deadpan. "Your wife is already pregnant, isn't she?"  
  
That, finally, managed to break the tension between them; Harry burst out laughing, and to his relief, Draco joined in eventually. A moment later, Draco was on top of him, his weight pinning Harry to the mattress and his hardening cock pressing against Harry's in a way that made him gasp. Harry felt goosebumps break out all over his body when Draco leaned in so closely that his lips brushed Harry's ear and whispered, "Is the offer for that rematch still standing?"  
  
Harry's pulse was quickening; it was becoming difficult to breathe. "My wand's on the bedside table."  
  
Draco hesitated for a split second. "You don't want me to prepare you? It's been a while."  
  
Harry shook his head; Draco liked taking things slowly, but he preferred it rough when he bottomed. "The spell will do."  
  
"Whatever you say."   
  
Draco's weight on top of Harry shifted a little when he reached for the wand, eliciting another gasp from Harry. Draco often teased him for it, but he loved the fact that this was the one place where he could let somebody else take over whenever he chose. He watched Draco pause a moment before he touched Harry's wand – using each other's wands had never ceased to feel incredibly intimate, ever since Harry had given Draco the Hawthorn wand back during their first night together. Draco's fingers ran over the smooth, dark wood, and Harry shivered as if they'd been touching him.   
  
Then Draco took the wand and whispered the incantation, causing the familiar feeling of slick, tingling warmth inside Harry. He let his legs fall open and wrapped them around Draco's waist, his hands reaching up to hold on to Draco's shoulders when Draco pushed into him. It hurt, as he had known it would, but Harry didn't mind; he loved this moment of utter, total surrender, when he let Draco take control of his body while he himself did nothing but hold and let go. They moved together in a harsh, frenzied rhythm that made Harry's blood rush in his ears until he barely could tell his own moans apart from Draco's any more.  
  
Draco came way too soon for Harry's liking, his body tensing as he thrust into Harry one last time and then stilled. Harry let out a protesting groan at the sudden loss of contact when Draco pulled back, but it quickly changed into a gasp when Draco's lips closed around his straining cock. It didn't take much more to send Harry over the edge; he let his head fall back and clenched his hands into Draco's hair as he came with a strangled cry. The cry ended in a whimper when Harry felt Draco's throat contract around the head of his cock as Draco swallowed; he slumped back into the pillows, gasping for breath, his whole body burning as if it were on fire.   
  
It was during moments like this that he knew with absolute certainty that nothing would ever come out of his half-hearted resolutions to stop cheating on Ginny, to go back and try to fix things between them so that their lives might become more than the facade they were right now. It would never happen, not when Draco could make him feel like this, sated and undone and so incredibly _alive_ that everything else paled in comparison.  
  
Draco, his expression smug although his lips were swollen and his face flushed, had stretched out next to him, and Harry pulled him close and kissed him greedily, eager to taste himself on Draco's tongue and to feel Draco's rapid heartbeat against his own. Draco kissed back with equal fervour, as if he wanted to hold on to the moment as long as possible. When they finally broke apart, Harry more felt than heard Draco whisper against his lips, "Stay with me for the night?"  
  
Harry hesitated. He would have loved nothing more than to say yes, but he knew it would mean another round of questioning and furious tears when he came home in the morning. He couldn't really blame Ginny for being angry with him; what had he been thinking, falling into bed with her again after they'd finally agreed on living together as friends until the boys went to Hogwarts? The truly weird thing was that he _was_ looking forward to the baby, but he knew it would make things even more complicated than they already were.  
  
Then Harry looked into Draco's face, which was schooled into a careful display of nonchalance, and threw caution to the wind. "Of course I will."  
  
The way Draco's expression softened ever so slightly assured him he was doing the right thing, even though there would be hell to pay the next morning. Draco seemed to think along the same lines, because he asked, "Not worried that the wife will rake you over the coals?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "She does that anyway." He didn't want to think about Ginny right now, about their long history of broken dreams and lost illusions. Back during his teenage years, the idea that they might one day have a future together had kept him going, but he'd found out the hard way that you should be careful what you wished for. These days, he felt as if he were living somebody else's life whenever he was with her, and if it hadn't been for the children, he'd have walked away from it all long ago. It had to end eventually, though; there would be no more children after this baby, that much was certain.  
  
Meanwhile, Draco had pulled the blanket over them both and reached out to draw Harry towards him. Draco usually wasn't one for snuggling, and this rare demonstration of tenderness made Harry a bit wary. He'd have loved nothing more than to curl up next to Draco and slip into satisfied, exhausted sleep, but somehow, he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.  
  
He nestled his head against Draco's shoulder and breathed in the familiar smell with a pang of yearning. If only – but no, that way lay madness.  
  
"This is such a bloody mess, Draco." He'd spoken without thinking, but now that the words were out, he was almost relieved he'd finally said them. "I hate this. I hate lying to Ginny, and to my friends, and I hate having to pretend that I'm something I'm not. It's just – " he paused, not sure how to express his thoughts.  
  
"It's just what?" Draco's voice was calm, with no hint as to what he might be thinking.  
  
"It's just that I can't leave them, you know."  
  
He more felt than heard Draco's soft sigh deep in his chest. "Of course you can't, and you shouldn't, either. Thanks to your filthy temper, there are now three children who need a father; you can't just walk away from that."  
  
"I always wanted children, you know," Harry admitted quietly. It was true, too; this was one thing that the realisation about his sexual preferences hadn't changed.  
  
"Funny, that," Draco replied with just the tiniest trace of sarcasm. "When I said the very same thing three years ago, you threw a hissy fit and walked out on me."  
  
Harry closed his eyes for a moment. "That's because I was an idiot."  
  
"Indeed you were." There was an edge in Draco's voice Harry couldn't interpret. "The truly sad thing is that everything would have been fine if you'd let me have my way back then. Pansy would have agreed to a quiet separation after a few years; she'd probably even have let me raise our child, she's not exactly the maternal type."  
  
"Yes, but my boys would never have been born," Harry reminded him. It had seemed ironical even then, that he should have become a father well before Draco, when Draco's wish to have children had caused Harry to go back to Ginny in the first place – but Ginny had ended up pregnant after that first, spiteful night he had spent with her while Pansy, as Draco had put it, did _not_ have the fearsome Weasley fertility going for her.  
  
Yet, this was one thing Harry would never regret, he knew that; the moment he had first held little James in his arms had been one of the happiest in his life. If only the circumstances had been different.  
  
Draco, unaware of Harry's musings, clucked his tongue. "True. Still, it complicates things somewhat because no matter what we do, we'll have the scandal of the decade on our hands if Harry Potter ever decides to leave his perfect little family for the sake of –"  
  
Harry abruptly raised his head. "What do you mean, if? I thought we had an agreement!"  
  
Draco turned his head to gaze at him levelly. "Do we still? I haven't heard anything about that since the latest row."  
  
Harry felt his mouth fall open. "You thought I'd go back on my word?"  
  
"Do you?"   
  
It reassured Harry somewhat that he could clearly see the emotion behind Draco's attempt at haughtiness. "No, of course not, you prat! We'll wait until the children are at Hogwarts and we're both not playing professionally any longer – "  
  
"- because the Quidditch scene is so homophobic that it's not even funny any more," Draco completed the sentence. "I know that's what we said back then, but I've done a lot of thinking in the meantime."  
  
Harry's insides seemed to turn to lead. "And what, exactly, does that mean?"  
  
"Harry," Draco began, and his almost pleading tone did nothing to ease Harry's mind, "listen to me. Waiting until my boy is at Hogwarts will do nothing to make things easier for him, quite the contrary. Can you imagine what he'd go through, having his father involved in such a scandal during his first year at school?"  
  
Harry nodded glumly. "And that means – "  
  
"That we'll have to keep this quiet a bit longer than we first anticipated."  
  
Harry took a deep breath. "A bit longer as in..."  
  
Draco seemed to steel himself for what he was going to say. "Until Scorpius has finished school; I won't have him abused there because of us. It wouldn't be a piece of cake for your kids either, but I hope you remember that my family has a lot more to lose than yours in that regard. You're not the only father here who cares about his children, Harry."  
  
Harry stared at him, completely horrified. "That's – Draco, that's seventeen years!"  
  
Draco turned his gaze away. "Yes."  
  
Harry slowly sank back into the pillow, every remnant of his earlier good mood gone. It was becoming harder by the day to keep up the charade that was his life, and Draco expected him to go on like this for almost two decades?  
  
"Jesus Christ, Draco, _seventeen_ years! You're willing to stay with Pansy during all that time?"  
  
Draco shrugged. "Why not? I rather like Pansy; we've been friends since we were toddlers. I live my life, she lives hers, and we meet once a day at breakfast. It works for me for the time being."  
  
"It won't work for Ginny and me, I'm sure of that." Harry didn't even want to contemplate the idea of prolonging the current miserable state for what seemed like an eternity.  
  
"Then leave." Finally, Draco was looking at him again. "If you really can't bear it, grow a pair and leave her – as soon as possible, before your children are old enough to realise what's going on. Let them grow up thinking it's normal that Mum and Dad aren't living together. You're still on speaking terms with your wife; you can work out an agreement concerning the children. One doesn't have to stay under the same roof to be a good father."  
  
Harry covered his face with his hands, his mind reeling. The rational part of his brain insisted that it was a smart suggestion, but he didn't even want to imagine what it would mean to go through with it. Divorce Ginny right after the baby was born, or even while she was still pregnant? If Molly didn't kill him for that, Ron would.   
  
"You make it sound a lot easier than it would be, you know."  
  
Yet, deep down Harry knew that Draco was right: Things were only going to get worse if he postponed the inevitable. He couldn't risk waiting until he and Ginny really started hating each other, not when he wanted to be there to see his children grow up without constantly fighting over them. When push came to shove, they would always be his first priority, and Harry found the realisation strangely comforting.  
  
For a long while, it was quiet; the only sound Harry could hear was Draco's slow, even breathing. He knew Draco was awake, though, since he was lying perfectly still; the moment he fell asleep, he would start tossing and turning until he'd got the covers tangled all around him and taken up all the space on the bed. Harry sometimes wondered if he had nightmares; so far, Draco had refused to tell him.  
  
Draco was still looking at him when Harry finally lowered his hands and asked without preamble, "And then?"  
  
Draco blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"What happens once those seventeen years are over? Can we stop hiding then?"  
  
A slow, almost feral grin spread over Draco's face. "Then, Potter, I'll gladly shout it from the rooftops that I've been your dirty little secret during all those years."  
  
Despite himself, Harry took some comfort from the fact that Draco apparently had no trouble assuming that they _would_ still be together after all that time.  
  
"Aren't you worried what your father will say?"  
  
Draco's grin widened. "He'll probably consider it my most brilliant political move ever."   
  
His expression turned serious again when he added, "That's all I have to offer, I'm afraid. If it's not good enough for you, you'd better tell me right now and save us both a lot of grief."  
  
"And what do you suggest I do if it isn't?" Harry did his best to keep his voice from trembling; he didn't want Draco to notice that his heart was in his throat.  
  
Draco gave him an odd look, as if he, too, were trying very hard not to show what he felt right now. "Then I suggest you still get the hell out of the Weaselette's clutches and enjoy your life as best you can, unless you want your children to end up with a nervous wreck for a father."  
  
Despite the seriousness of the topic, Harry couldn't help laughing. "Sounds sensible to me."  
  
He held out a hand towards Draco, and to his relief, Draco took it immediately and pulled him closer so that Harry ended up pressed against him. Harry slowly ran his hands over Draco's chest, enjoying the feeling of warm, smooth skin under his fingertips and realising again that he simply couldn't give this up, no matter how difficult things were going to be.  
  
Perhaps, against all odds, they were really going to make it work somehow.  
  
"Fine."  
  
Draco frowned at him. "Fine, what?"  
  
"Fine, I promise to wait for you. Seventeen years, if I have to." To his annoyance, Harry heard his voice crack during the last words and added quickly, "You'd better make it worth my while, though."  
  
Draco's mouth twisted into a smirk, but Harry was sure his eyes were a bit brighter than usual. "I'll do my best."  
  
"That's all I could possibly ask for," Harry replied and, to his own surprise, realised that he meant it.

**Author's Note:**

> Each man should frame life so that at some future hour fact and his dreaming meet.  
> (Victor Hugo)


End file.
